There's a chapter yet unwritten in the margins of the cosmos, where stars whispered secrets in a language forgotten by time and tide. She walks there, between the spaces—between the sentences of a book, that is never read. Something about the way the constellations shifted, like a slow dance of celestial bodies to music unheard, drew her into a reverie. Whispering Winds perhaps, like echoes trailing on the wings of what could have been...
Just beyond the horizon of consciousness lies a path strewn with pebbles of moonlight and dreams unfulfilled. Once, it was said that the fallen stars kept a map of this territory, woven into the constellations themselves—a guide for those who dared to journey through the nebula of their own thoughts. The night sky, a canvas smeared with the brushstrokes of infinity.
But now, it remains a mystery, an enigma sealed in the chambers of fate.Roots Reclaimed, a title echoing through the silence.
And the questions linger, like shadows cast by unseen hands: What tales could those stars tell? What lives lived in the cosmos' cradle? The universe breathes, and in its exhalation, a soft sigh of stories untold...Journey Begins—perhaps the beginning of all endings turned beginnings.
A constellation of thoughts maps itself in her mind, each star a memory of futures not lived, yet so familiar, like a ghostly outline in the fog of remembering...